


central pines

by bluesgraywaren



Category: trinkets - Fandom, trinkets netflix
Genre: F/F, i love trinkets pls watch, i wanted to write this for sos so so oso long!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesgraywaren/pseuds/bluesgraywaren
Summary: you've been a resident at the rehab facility where elodie's being sent for her shoplifting. being new roommates doesn't have to be weird, but when feelings, personal demons, and friends get involved, you and elodie get closer than you think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy lovelies! i just watched trinkets (please please pretty pleeeease go watch it it’s beyond good) and am in love w elodie’s character. i hope you guys like this one!fic playlist: 
> 
> bon iver - hey, ma
> 
> dead girl in the pool. - girl in red
> 
> banana clip - miguel
> 
> let it happen - tame impala (song parts 6:15 to 6:38)
> 
> overlap - catfish and the bottlemen
> 
> this baby don’t cry - k.flay
> 
> alligator - of monsters and men

It had been two and a half months since you’d arrived at Central Pines.

 

The food was okay, and the air conditioning was subpar. Since you hadn’t been too keen on going there in the first place, and your dad’s incessant emails weren’t going to end until you left, your newfound safe haven wasn’t exactly going to be something you cared too much about.

 

It was nestled in the outskirts of Portland, surrounding by hulking pine trees and dense forest, hiking trails close to overpowering the tiny rehabilitation camp.

 

 _Rehab, right,_ you reminded yourself. _I’m in rehab._

 

The people were the only reason why you hadn’t left yet. Well, that, and your “family issues”, which is what the counselors had so fondly filed you under in their massive stack of patients.

 

Everyone seemed to be remotely friendly, and the people that you’d met had honestly made a decent impression on you. You’d leave if you were willing to jeopardize it, but going home wasn’t an option. Leaving meant getting caught, and getting caught meant that you’d have to go home. Plus, police, which was something you weren’t too happy to think about again.

 

You got up and out of bed, shaking out your messy Y/H/C curls and slipping your feet into your sandals. After your bed had been made (a small progression of what your counselors thought was a “good stride”), you took sleepy steps over to the closet and got changed for the day, finishing off your look with an embroidered jean jacket and a pair of loose slacks. You’d seen Booksmart a few weeks ago, and despite the fact that you loved the characters for who they were, you really goddamn wanted Amy’s jacket.

 

You looked to the other side of the room, barren with nothing to reveal any inpatients. Probably because you didn’t have a roommate. When you’d first gotten there, a girl named Safi was moving out, so there was no overlap between the two of you. You’d taken over your side, she’d left hers, and while your side was filled with posters of bands, movies, and corkboards with your friends’ photos, the other side contained peeling wallpaper and a sad-looking twin bed.

 

You checked your phone and saw that it was almost nine, which meant that you had to check in with Counselor Adams (or Tracey, depending on who you’d ask) before you could get any sort of breakfast. It was fine, because you’d rather die than go without your beloved coffee that came from Adams’s office, but you were kind of hungry. Regardless, you started making your way down the long dormitory hallways, seeing your peripheral friends getting ready for the day ahead and leaving their dorm doors open.

 

Adams’s office wasn’t the sort of place that made you feel like you were in an actual rehab center, but more like a therapist’s office, which you actually had grown to like. There were little photos of her family everywhere, along with comfy chairs, glowing twinkly lights, and tiny ceramic animals adorning the chair that sat opposite your couch.Well, not _your_ couch, but you didn’t really have anything else in this facility besides your belongings, and damn it if that old, overstuffed linen didn’t feel somewhat like home.

 

“Ahh, Little Miss Caffeine,” Tracey groaned, flopping down in her Frankenstein’d athletic ball/old couch chair. “My espresso hasn’t hit yet, but we still have a couple minutes. Keurig’s up and running.”

 

“Thank God,” you sighed in relief, shutting the door behind the two of you and going to tap what you wanted into the machine. “You still have that almond milk creamer?”

 

“How could I not?” Tracey chuckled, taking another sip from her mug. “I use so much of the Folgers original creamer that I’m on the toilet for days with diarrhea. You suggesting an alternative was quite literally the only thing saving me from a life of bathroom hell.”

 

You giggled then, letting your hot mug sit for a second before splashing in the Splenda and the creamer. “Oh, so we’re blaming the milk for it now, huh?”

 

“I refuse to believe it’s the caffeine,” Tracey said strongly, wild hand movements indicating her opinion. “If it is, I might go crazy trying new methods of waking up so early.”

 

You looked up at the clock, seeing that it was exactly 9 on the dot, and sat down on the couch, ready to start your session.

 

Tracey leaned forward, pushing a piece of her curly brown hair back behind her ear and adjusting her blazer and her Central Pines t-shirt. “So. Let’s talk. Weekly update?”

 

“Sure!” you said, swatting your hand over your drink to make sure it wouldn’t destroy your tongue upon the first sip. “So, I’m doing okay. I do a lot of hiking, and I went into town last week on the free day. Which was nice.”  
  
“Ugh, free days are the absolute _best_ ,” Tracey said, crossing her legs over her chair. “I remember when I used to go on them. I was _obsessed_ with the coffee place at the end of the street that gave you those little donut things. I mean, it’s gone now, but, _fuck_ , they were so amazing! Oh, sorry, keep going.”

 

You laughed again at her habit of constantly interrupting you, and kept going. “Well, uh, it’s been different here. I mean, I know you guys pretty well, but friends-wise, I don’t really have too many here. I think a lot of people kind of just want to keep themselves going while they’re here. Not like, I want to speak for them or anything. I don’t know what’s going on with the others, and I really hope they’re all doing well, but I don’t really know how to you know, bridge that gap. You know?”

 

Tracey’s face took on a slightly sad and concerned expression, and she leaned back in her chair, nodding at your statement. “I understand. It’s hard enough trying to make sure you’re okay, while also trying to reach out to others. I’m sure that people will come around. Everyone has their personal demons, and when you’re here, we can’t always fully stop them from amplifying. But there’s always outlets. If anything, come here if you’re feeling lonely. You know that I have an armory of snacks and food and conversation, and I’m sure people not reaching out isn’t anything to do with you. I promise.”

 

You felt tears sparking up in your eyes then, and you looked up at the positive sticky notes on the ceiling, trying to enunciate them in your head to give the tears time to go away. Tracey gave you a moment before speaking up again, this time in a gentler tone of voice.

 

“Everything’s going to be fine. In fact, you have a new roommate coming at the end of the day today.”

 

You snapped your head back down to meet Tracey’s eyes, your fidgeting hands ceasing the incessant folding and unfolding and folding of the cuffs of your jacket. You couldn’t help but feel the rush of hope and excitement a new person brought, but quickly shut down the feeling. It was probably someone who didn’t want to be bothered with you, let alone be as furtive as you were to make friends. _Squash the hope_ , you told yourself _,_ taking a deep breath before speaking.

 

“Really?” you said, trying to keep your voice level and break-free. “Are you allowed to… Tell me about them?”

 

“Sure! A little bit, at least,” Tracey said, reaching over and pulling a manila folder from beside her coffee table. She opened the folder, sliding out a packet or so before speaking.

 

“Okay, so her name’s Elodie. She’s coming here from a few towns over from you, and she’s going to be with us for a little while. Apparently her father and some other family’s helping her to move in. I haven’t met her yet, but John in admissions did, and he seemed to get a somewhat okay feeling from her. You know, people leaving their hometown and friends and all that, it’s not easy,” Tracey said, sliding the packet back into the folder and replacing it on the table. “At least, she has people here who get what it’s like.”

 

You poked your tongue in on the side of your cheek and took a deep breath, flattening out your pants with your palms. She was right.

 

“If you need someone to show her around other than John, whose niche TV show reference I’m sure she _loves_ hearing, I’ll do it.”

 

The words left your mouth before you could take them back, and you felt almost like you were going to slap your palm against your head. _What the fuck! I don’t wanna do that? Do I? What if she’s cute? Fuck! Stop! She’s probably not interested. It doesn’t matter. Ugh, this whole internal guilt thing blows-_

 

“Really?” Tracey squealed, clasping her hands together in excitement. “I mean, I was hoping I could find someone that could show her around that _wouldn’t_ say ‘Bazinga!’ every three seconds.”

 

A grin took over your face, and you stood up, turning to put your shoes back on and leave the carpeted room. It was officially 9:30, and the next person to be counseled was going to come in any second. “What time are they getting here?”

 

“Noon!” Tracey said, scarfing down her drink before her next patient. “Thank you so much again, kiddo. I really appreciate it.”

 

“No problem, man!” you said, shooting finger guns at her before internally cringing and kicking yourself for the weird ass motion.

 

You said goodbye to Tracey and headed to the cafeteria, sitting down in one of the worn wooden chairs with a Clif bar in front of you.

 

 _Hello, Elodie,_ you thought to yourself. _At least you’ll have a cool roommate._

 

 


	2. siren eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> elodie arrives. cute smiles between you two ensue.

**_elodie’s POV_ **

 

Elodie hadn’t been in the car for longer than about an hour before the sparse roads turned into the larger, dense forest. She used to like going hiking with her friends, or just hanging out with Tabitha and Moe around Kelley Point, but wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of hanging out in the woods with a man who was _way_ too into the Big Bang Theory and a couple of other fuckups like her.

 

Wait. Not exactly thrilled wasn’t the phrase here. How about fucking hated?

 

Elodie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window of her dad’s car, letting one of Sabine’s new songs float through her headphones.

 

_Every time I see you,_

 

_in dreams and in front of me,_

 

_I swear you’re holding_

 

_the key that you want from me in your_

 

_siren eyes-_

 

Elodie paused the music, momentarily waiting to try and find another song. She knew that the song was probably about her, but she could do without the constant reference to be pulling over by the cops. Even if that wasn’t what the “siren” eyes were supposed to be. She didn’t like remembering. She didn’t like the exactly zero kisses she and Sabine had time to share before they got pulled over, and she definitely didn’t like what had come after. Her father and stepmother coming to pick her up from the station, the concerned hugs masked in what could only be anger and grief, and Sabine’s tired expression that showed that she had to move on without Elodie.

 

Elodie snapped out of her daze when her father waved his hands back and forth from the front seat, pulling off her headphones and preparing for whatever he was about to say.

 

He exchanged a furtive glance with his wife before turning back to Elodie.

 

“We’re here, kiddo.”

 

Elodie looked out the side window then, seeing a tall building come into frame and nestling itself in the way too fucking big pine trees that she kept seeing. God, she was really sick of pine trees.

 

There was, however, someone she recognized (but would sooner like to forget) standing in front of the facility with a large clipboard in hand and a hat that said, “Welcome, new camper!” in bold yellow letters.

 

_Bazinga John._

 

By the time they’d swung into one of the parking spots, John’s entirely-too-cheerful face was in their passenger side window, tapping on the glass.

 

He knocked three times before laughing at himself, letting out a “Penny!” and joining in the polite laughs Elodie’s father and stepmother made. Elodie cracked a slightly concerned smile, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot, and stepped out of the car.

 

“How ya doing, Elodie?” John said, practically vibrating with excitement and energy. He put out his hand for her to shake, and she took it for a brief and uncomfortable second before shoving it back into her pocket.

 

_This was so weird._

 

“I’m good,” she said tentatively, turning to remove her backpack from the car and putting her headphones around her neck. “A little hungry, but good.”

 

“Great!” John exclaimed, popping his hands on his hips like this was the best thing anyone had possibly ever said to him. “We have another camper coming out to give you the tour, and she’s super nice, and she can definitely take you to the kitchen first-“

 

“Uh, John?” Elodie’s father said, pulling a larger suitcase out of the car and standing next to it awkwardly. “I think I have to do some paperwork or something? Could you take me to the admissions office?”

 

John, again, looked beyond thrilled at the prospect of doing absolutely the most. “Of course, pops! Just follow me! Elodie’s tour guide will be out in a second. I’m gonna take that responsibility for her being late, I asked her to grab me some more cold brew- mmm! Nothing like some good coffee at this hour, am I right Els?”

 

“Sure,” Elodie said, wide eyes betraying the cheerful tone John was trying to push into the air. “Yes, coffee. It’s uh… good.”

 

Suddenly a door slammed open in the front of the main building, a girl with an embroidered jacket running out in white sneakers and with a to-go cup of coffee in her hand. Her Y/H/C hair bounced in the air behind her, and an obvious coffee stain on her pants betrayed the polished look that her button-down and rings put off. She ran up, passing the coffee cup to John, and stopped in front of Elodie.

 

 _Whoa_.

 

Elodie knew this wasn’t the time to absolutely scout out really, _really_ god damn beautiful girls, but you were on a whole other level. She was almost starstruck talking to you, snapping out of it only when you stuck a hand out in front of yourself.

 

“I’m Y/N,” the pretty girl (oh, who was Elodie kidding. The fucking _hot ass girl_ ) said, looking at Elodie with an infectious grin across her face. “You’re Elodie, right?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Elodie said, reaching out to shake your hand and try not to smile too big. She was in rehab, and kept reminding herself of that fact, no matter how good looking her prospective tour guide was going to be. Also, she was probably straight, right? I mean, her jacket was _very_ decorated, and she was wearing sneakers with slacks, but straight people could wear stuff like that too… Right?

 

“Elodie Davis,” Elodie said, nervously playing with one of her headphones and adjusting her backpack. “What’s your name?”

 

“Y/N March,” you said, still smiling and shaking her father and stepmother’s hands before sticking your hands in your back pockets. “My friends call me March, though. Given that we’re gonna be roommates, you can call me that.”

 

Elodie stopped in her tracks. “Roommates?”

 

You let out an exasperated sigh. “John!” you half-yelled, laughing in the process. “You didn’t tell her?”

 

John clasped his hands together and made a fake pouty face. “I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise!”

 

You continued laughing then, and Elodie had to stop herself from creepily staring at your general… everything.

 

“Sorry, Elodie,” you said, pointing back behind you with your thumb. “We can head in, get some food, see your room. Or, my room. _Our_ room. My bad.”

 

“It’s cool,” Elodie said, pulling her four-wheeled suitcase behind her and watching her dad and stepmom disappear through the front gate behind John. He was humming a tune under his breath that Elodie recognized, but-

 

“If you can believe it, it’s The Big Bang Theory theme song,” you said, sighing in disappointment. “If you ever hear him humming anything, that’s probably what it is. Every time I hear it I feel like I’m in hell.”

 

Elodie laughed, watching you start to turn on your heels to go inside. “You hear a lot of Bazingas around here?”

 

“OH, DON’T EVEN GET ME _STARTED_!” you yelled, causing Elodie to break out in a peal of surprised laughter. “Every day. _Every day._ But anyway, you can follow me, set your stuff down.”

 

Elodie pushed down her grin, desperately trying to actually bring up the subject at hand, which was that she _was in rehab_. This wasn’t a fun place, or a cool club where she could hang out with pretty people and her actual friends, but _rehab_.

 

A downcast expression fell over her face then, and you noticed, reaching out and placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I know it’s not easy, and I _really_ fucking hated it when I first got here. I’m not saying you have to like it, or anything. Don’t try and act like you do if you don’t. If you do, you’ll go insane.”

 

Elodie looked back up, locking eyes with you and sending a small, grateful smile your way. She was totally ignoring the fact that you were so close to her.

 

“Thanks. Any way we could get some food first?” Elodie said, trying to cover up the sound of her grumbling stomach in your presence.

 

“Oh, hell yeah. I’m starving,” you said, starting to turn back into the building and holding the door open for Elodie. Elodie looked quickly at the back of your jacket, seeing it adorned with iron-on patches and the occasional “Reproductive Rights are Human Rights!” or “Useless Lesbian” patches. She quickly squashed down the excitement that came with knowing you were gay (or, queer) and stepped through the door.

 

“Thanks, March.”


	3. the f stands for "fuck"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and elodie get to know your dorm.

Your stomach had been doing incessant flip flops since you’d met Elodie, and you were pretty sure that she kept looking at you when she didn’t think you could see.

 

 _You were probably just seeing things,_ the rational part of your brain said, kicking you for objectifying this poor new girl. _Or, wait, maybe that’s the shame talking_ -

 

You quickly swatted away the negative thoughts and started to lead Elodie through the dorm hallways, stopping at your newly shared room.

 

You stepped inside and made a sweeping gesture for Elodie to enter, which she smiled graciously at, despite the fact that you were cringing on the inside at your own blatant strange behavior.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

“So,” Elodie said, tossing her backpack on the plain, uncovered bed and wheeling her suitcase next to the headboard. “Pretty plain on my side.”

 

“Yeah,” you chucked, sitting back on your bed and crossing your legs. “You can decorate, though. I mean, we have free days every Wednesday, and we can go into town and stuff. I mean, you’re supervised, but barely. Just enough not to get any ideas while still being able to have a decent time.”

 

Elodie let out a small sigh and sat back on her bed, mimicking your movements and resting her head on her hands in her lap. “I’m assuming no visits with friends, or anything.”

 

You smiled then, leaning forward and propping your chin on your clasped hands. “I mean… If you happen to run into some friends when you’re out on the town… I’m sure no one’s going to break it up.”

 

Elodie sent a small, secret smile your way, her eyes darting over your face and then back down to her feet. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was checking you out, but a visitor in the doorway quickly cleared that thought out of your mind.

 

“Hellooooooo, new roomies!” John said, swinging his foot into the doorway like he was in a low-budget production of _Hello, Dolly!_ He walked in and was soon followed by Elodie’s father, a taller, scruffy looking man with a slouchy sweater vest.

 

“You’re, uh, Y/N, right?” Mr. Davis said, awkwardly reaching behind himself to stick his hands in his back pockets and trying not to look too hard at Elodie. “I’m excited Elodie’s going to have a roommate that I can already get a good vibe from.”

 

“Thanks, Mr. Davis!” you said, leaning back on your hands and grinning at the fact that he was quite obviously incredibly uncomfortable talking to you. _The parents always are_.

 

He started to look around your poster-adorned side of the room, eyes flitting about until they landed on one of your homemade posters, an upside down pink triangle.

 

“Lesbian sign!” he exclaimed, and when your eyes went wide and you let out shocked laughter, Elodie looked downright murderous.

 

“Oh, I mean, I’m an LBGFQ ally,” he started uncomfortably, despite the fact that he completely butchered the name of the community. “I do some research here and there, because Elodie… Okay!” he cut himself off, probably sensing the daggers that Elodie was sending his way. “That’s enough out of me.”

 

You kept your giggling to a polite minimum, hiding your laughter behind your hand as John quickly tried to change the subject. Thank god Mr. Davis had enough grace to go with it, allowing himself to be swept up into a conversation about John’s new favorite show ( _Two Broke Girls_ , if you can believe it) and following him out the door.

 

Elodie seemed to be looking anywhere except for your eyes, head down in her hands and a cringing frown on her face. When she looked up, though, you were still laughing, and she joined in, thankful for the out you had given her.

 

“So… LGBFQ huh?” you said, almost barely able to speak over your laughter.

 

Elodie let out a breath between cackling, trying to keep her voice even. “The F stands for fuck.”

 

This sent you on a whole other cycle of breathless laughter, and it took almost a full minute for the two of you to get back to breathing normally.

 

The laughter dwindled down and the quiet replaced the noise in your room, almost waiting for you or Elodie to break the silence. Luckily, though, some music tinkering out of Elodie’s headphones broke the abrupt lack of sound.

 

“What are you listening to?” you asked curiously, rearranging some pillows on your bed and trying to look completely unbothered at the fact that this new girl was cute _and_ funny.

 

Elodie shyly picked up her yellow headphones, a small blush overtaking her cheeks before handling them like they were made of glass. “Just some older music that some people I used to know made. I’m trying to find some new stuff, though.”

 

You stood up then, leaning over and sitting next to Elodie and glancing over at her Spotify.

 

“Hmm,” you said, looking at the album cover that adorned the screen. On it was a girl with blonde hair and red lips, looking away from the camera as if its very existence was bothersome. “She looks cool. You knew her?”

 

“Yeah,” Elodie breathed, fingers delicately handling the phone like the album cover was going to look at her at any moment. “She’s sort of my ex.”

 

“Shit, sorry,” you said, unconsciously drawing your legs into your chest. “Bad ending?”

 

“You could say that,” she sighed after speaking. “I doubt she ever wants to see me again.”

 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you piped in, leaning on your hands and giving Elodie a reassuring smile. “You seem great.”

 

Elodie smiled at you then, and your stomach did another backflip. You could feel warmth rush into your cheeks, and you were so close; your elbow was centimeters away from Elodie’s arm, and the sudden proximity combined with your eye contact startled you into speaking.

 

“If you’re looking for some new stuff, I’ve gotten into this band called Girlpool recently,” you said, tucking your sleeves over your hands (a nervous habit that you hated if you were conscious that it was happening).

 

“I’ve heard of them!” Elodie said, a sudden nod lighting up her features. “I used to listen to their album Powerplant.”

 

“Really?” you grinned, leaning closer to her. “They have a new album, What Chaos is Imaginary. It’s really good, if I do say so myself.” You mimicked tipping a fedora, throwing in an, “M’peccable music taste.”

 

Elodie started laughing again, scooting closer to you on the bed. “What song do you like on there the most? Usually I don’t do whole album listen-throughs, so I wanna start with something someone likes.”

 

You felt your face flush again as she moved the phone closer to you, and almost a slight explosion as you took the phone and the two of your hands touched. You glanced down at the screen, pretending not to notice Elodie staring at you (she was probably just trying to be nice) as you typed in the song title and handed the phone back.

 

You heard the speakers on her headphones abruptly stop and start the song, “Pretty”. It was your favorite, and you were hoping that Elodie liked it too.

 

“Here,” she said, flipping one of the headphones inside out and gesturing it to you. “Group listen.”

 

You felt your stupidly happy smile take over your face again, and you leaned your head close to the speaker as Elodie put the other headphone on her ear. You let the music flow through the two of you, closing your eyes at the melodic guitar chords and crashing drums.

 

_I remember seeing you in dreams_

_Trying to understand what this sadness means_

_I hate the way I feel confused_

_Like I'll always be a part of you_

_You were such an idol_

_Yeah, you were the whole world_

_Now, you see, you look pretty broken…_

 

You opened your eyes again and saw Elodie’s dart quickly back from where they were resting on your face. She blushed and looked down, and you were too caught up in the fact that she was looking at you at all to do anything other than keep listening.


	4. bottled up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> elodie thinks about her past.

Elodie had been listening to songs suggested by the two of you for close to fifteen minutes. It was quiet, peaceful, and a nice reprieve from the constant _“I can’t believe you’d do this, Elodie,”_ or the _“I’m the reason you did this. I’m a bad dad.”_ or the worst one out of all of them, which was “ _I’m disappointed in you.”_

 

You were sweet, and beautiful, and the way you laughed made Elodie’s insides feel like honey. You had already been nicer to her than anyone she talked to in the first few weeks of her new school, her old crushes that let her fade away in Albuquerque, and her father and stepmother. You didn’t know about her baggage, and you didn’t ask, and it was… perfect.

 

You were listening to a new song now, one that Elodie had suggested, and she watched as you gently swayed to the music, cross-legged still on the bed.

 

_Like a wave crashing over me_

_Rough sea lacking harmony_

_You are my piece of mind, got the best from you_

_My steady hand that guides me through_

_Like the gentle before the break…_

 

She’d been lost for a second, watching the curve of your nose and the movement of your smile, and for a second it felt like the two of you were in your own little private bubble. Nothing but the sounds of TENDER’s single “Bottled Up” filled each of your respective headphones, and that was the way it should’ve been.

 

Elodie kept watching you in the dim lighting of your curtained room; eyes flitting over your freckles and eyelashes and full lips until she realized what she was doing and moved her eyes and small smile onto her shoes. It wasn’t like she didn’t find you attractive, or funny, or really, _really_ beautiful, but the fact that she didn’t want to get stuck here wouldn’t leave her mind. This was _rehab_ , not some sort of vacation camp where she could leave at any time and hang out with her friends and go to Paper Tiger and… Fuck. She knew that if her mom was still in the picture, this wouldn’t be happening. She wasn’t sure where Moe and Tabitha fit into that picture with her mother, or Zoe and Sabine, or you, and it all became a little too much. Imagining better things hurt sometimes.

 

Elodie didn’t even realize that she was crying until a tear slid from off of her cheek and onto her hand, causing her to jump abruptly and you to look over in alarm. You scanned the bed to see if something scared her, and then her hands rushing up to wipe tears off of her cheeks let you know what was going on.

 

“I’m sorry,” Elodie mumbled wetly, pressing her eyes into her palms. “You just met me, I-“

 

“Hey, hey, look,” you said, delicately placing the headphones behind you and placing a tentative hand on Elodie’s sweater-clad shoulder. Elodie was still incapable of stopping her tears from coming out, choosing instead to look at her shoes and pretend that this wasn’t happening. This _wasn’t_ happening.

 

She felt your fingers brush over a small piece of her hair and tucking it behind her ears, causing her to look up, still with tear-filled eyes. Your expression was understanding, concerned, and pity-stricken all at the same time, and you both were too close for Elodie to do anything else but stare.

 

“You did just meet me,” you mumbled, still trying to swipe the tears out of Elodie’s face and cupping her one cheek with you hand. “Which means you’re not alone.”

 

Elodie let out a sigh of gratefulness and grief, placing her head on your shoulder as you slowly stroked your thumb over her spine. You both sat there, hearing the song fade out from Elodie’s headphones, in barely comfortable silence. Nothing was really going to be able to be said while you both tried to calm your nerves and try and face the day ahead of you.

 

“Hey,” you whispered suddenly, Elodie’s red eyes snapping up to meet yours. “Wanna go for a walk? There’s a hiking trail around here that’s pretty quiet. It’s a good place to talk. And unwind. I went there pretty much every day when I first got here. CPS brought me, and I really, _really_ felt alone, and I wasn’t even sure what I’d do. But sometimes it’s nice to kind of have a space where you don’t have to know what to do.”

 

Elodie lifted her head off of your jacket then, tears no longer falling out, and let out a tentative nod.

 

“I’d like that.”


End file.
